Ever Watchful
by RandomWittering
Summary: Morrigan watches...


This is a one shot I did for the BiowareFanClub 'Unlikely Pairing' challenge on DevArt :)

Thanks and *HUGS* to Jinx1983 and Bonkzy for encouraging me to do it!

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><p>I see much that others miss. So much babbling hides one's true nature and obscures what surrounds us. The people I travel with, my... companions... are an interesting set of creatures. An Orlesian bard who despite seeming to have nothing but air between her ears, is definitely more than she seems. A dwarf who seldom raises his face from an ale tankard and don't get me started on his stench. The Circle Mage is quite interesting, despite her insistence that all Mages should be coralled and chained <em>for our own good<em>. She reminds me somewhat of my mother actually, but without the insane laughter and name calling. The Qunari I try to stay away from, no good can come of conversing with one so indoctrinated in not thinking for oneself. Tis more than merely irritating.

At the head of our band of merry little rebels are the Warden and her spineless pet Templar, Alistair. I swear the man follows her with his tongue hanging out. He is clearly an idiot and I certainly don't understand why he gets under my skin the way he does.

I can hear them arguing again. It appears the little Templar is growing a spine after all, and our precious Warden doesn't like that one bit. The others wonder why I keep to myself and my own camp fire, well there it is. I can't abide all the noise, the necessity to fill perfectly good silence with idle chatter. I prefer to listen to the crackling of the fire, the wind in the trees, not the inane wittering of a group of people who can't seem to put the right shoe on the right foot without direction from the Warden.

My eyes follow the Templar, as is my habit, as he wanders around the camp in frustration after their latest argument. I like to keep an eye on him as he is the only person who can stop me from accessing my magic, and only a fool would allow themselves to be so vulnerable.

I see the Warden making a fool of him with the obnoxious elf, in the dark where they think no one can see. She plays them both masterfully and I cannot fathom how Alistair can be so blind not to know they sneak around.

He has gone into his tent now. Time for one to sleep, I think, perhaps to walk the fade.

~0~

Much has happened to get here. I never thought I would see the inside of a palace, unless t'was in a cell in the dungeon. I have a room, a bed, one could even grow quite fond of such trappings but I feel confined by the walls. I am not free to run with the wolves or the bears and it unnerves me. My task is close at hand, however.

I cannot fail.

The Warden makes it far too easy to make my offer. She cast Alistair aside in favour of that simpering Anora but at least she is wise in that she does not want to die. I almost wish she had been a man. She makes no bones about ordering Alistair to lie with me. He is not happy with that but he is here alone, finally, in my room. He actually takes up an alarming amount of space.

He looks like a sad puppy, and it makes me want to snap at him. I doubt it would help and so I refrain.

I decide that his wounds where the Warden are concerned are best healed quickly, cauterised in a manner of speaking, and show him some of the things I have witnessed in camp. He stares at the visions with tears in his eyes which quickly grow to anger. After they have finished, he shakes his head and turns to go but I reach out to take his hand. I am not even sure why. I know that I need his seed for the ritual but I don't necessarily need him to provide it happily.

He looks as confused as I feel and our eyes lock together and... something, I know not of any emotion to compare it to, flows through me.

His eyes turn softer, less angry and I compel myself to stay stern and aloof, but suddenly, the months of watching him, only him, crowd in on me.

He draws me to him and I am powerless to push him away. What _is_this? I am a strong Witch of the Wilds, I was to use this man then cast him aside... as the Warden did. I am not her, could never be her.

I feel the need to run, to get away from this feeling but the ritual must be completed or all my plans are for naught.

As touch and sensation give way to pleasure and intimacy, I am lost and terrified. This was not how it was supposed to be, yet as we crest together, our eyes meet, our hands entwine and something powerful passes between us. Something that scares me more than anything I could dream of.

It is done, the ritual complete. Neither Alistair... nor the Warden will die on the morrow and I will leave, to raise my babe alone. The thought no longer thrills me.

How did I come to this? Am I a silly young girl with no thought in her head but for husbands and babies? Faugh, this is ridiculous. I could care less if the fool dies, only that when the Archdemon dies, I am within reach.

Yet my eyes still follow him, watchful. I knock creatures out of his way that would harm him. I protect him as much as I can without being observed. The Warden ignores him and it fills me with anger.

I once admired her, now I despise her.

My nameless emotions are so scattered, my heart in my mouth as Alistair takes the sword and charges the Dragon. The Warden has been knocked flat in the battle and it is now up to him to strike the blow. I tell myself I want him to succeed, because I only need the essence of the Old God, but I know it is a lie. I need _him_to live.

He slides under the beast's head, slicing along the throat, then stands, chest heaving for breath. He looks straight at me... and smiles. Then he drives the sword straight through that hideous head and there is so much blinding light.

I feel the essence calling, the completed ritual within me responding and then it fills me with a beautiful, wonderful heat. Then it is gone and I mourn the loss.

All of us there are knocked flat as an explosion rocks the rooftop. Another fear drives me to my feet and I am across to the ruins of the Archdemon. I look for Alistair and he is there but I can't see him breathe. I look for the Circle Mage but she is down also, as are the rest of them. On my knees, I pull him away from the carnage and try and find the source of any wounds. Did the ritual not work? I certainly felt something come to me.

No breath, no sign of life and I have no healing power. I sit back and look solemnly down at the one man I might have tolerated. I lean down and kiss him, a thank you of sorts.

Getting to my feet again, cursed tears clouding my vision and I change form to a fox.

Time to leave.

~0~

Even in the wilds I hear many things from the capital city. In spite of myself and my plans, I find myself within Denerim again, the rebuilding has begun and the Warden lauded as a hero for defeating the Blight by that simpering treacherous Queen. The man who _actually_ended the Blight, ignored, pushed off to one side.

I enter the tavern, cloaked and hidden, and true to the rumour, he is there, in his cups.

I move beside him and he looks up, his eyes widen at the sight of me and I simply hold out my hand. He looks into my eyes for a long moment, then takes it.

We will not be seen again...


End file.
